Metal Masters And Dragon Lords
by Belen09
Summary: What if technology and magic both existed in an alternate Star Trek universe? This is the story of the Starfleet vessel Enterprise . . . a ship crewed by 'metal masters and dragon lords' (and a few clueless aliens) . . .


Metal Masters And Dragon Lords

What if technology and magic both existed in an alternate Star Trek universe? This is the story of the Starfleet vessel Enterprise . . . a ship crewed by 'metal-masters' and 'dragon-lords' (and a few clueless aliens) . . .

None, PG-13, AU

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Anglo-Saxon Chronicle – 793 "Here were dreadful forewarnings come over the land of Northumbria, and woefully terrified the people: these were amazing sheets of lightning and whirlwinds, and fiery dragons were seen flying in the sky." British Library website.

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Prologue, The First -

As soon as Soval of Vulcan received word of the incident involving the Klingon, he automatically used the calming techniques that his first foremother taught him so many years before. It was too early for the humans of Earth to have contact with that aggressive species, far too early. And yet there was nothing to be done about it, but to deal with it.

A treacherous bit of reasoning came to mind. Perhaps he could convince Starfleet to allow the Klingon to die 'naturally' – after all they were a superstitious race of beings, prone to beliefs of untenable leaps of faith (even that of magic). That last centered around a group of an unusual species of fauna, specific to Earth – 'dragons', both domesticated and feral – that roamed the skies.

(When the Vulcans first made contact with the humans, in the spirit of friendship, they offered to help 'control' these creatures, which were observed to wreak havoc on a regular basis on what passed for civilization on this planet. This kind offer was met horrified silence in the more 'enlightened', and murderous fury in the general public. Unfortunate incidents 'occurred', resulting in mortality to both Vulcans and humans. It eventually transpired that a series of meetings were arranged between the Vulcan delegation and a group of humans who were called 'Dragon Lords', who apparently had domesticated some of the dragon species. The Vulcans were told most unequivocally, "We will be friends with your planet, but do not touch the dragons." The Vulcans had held to that accord ever since; at least dragons couldn't travel in space.)

Soval quickly left to go to the medical center where the Klingon was being held. He also summoned other Vulcans to accompany him. Being the ambassador to this planet did have some compensations, and he decided that he needed fellow Vulcans to enforce what he wanted to say.

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Prologue, The Second –

Captain Jonathan Archer was lying – half in and half out of a bulkhead access port – when his far-speak beeped three times rapidly in a row indicating that an important message needed to be handled. 'These things always seem to happen at the worst times,' he mused, as he hauled himself out into the Enterprise's corridor. He knelt, and pulled the device out of a chest pocket. "Archer here," he replied, maybe a little harsher than he intended but then this morning he had been interrupted too many times.

This time was different – an alien of a race known as Klingon had crashed into a farmer's field; he was being chased by other aliens of an unknown type. The situation had gotten worse – as the farmer had used an antique weapon to shoot the intruder, and the other aliens had died – apparently in a dust explosion. Archer's contact and confidant at Starfleet warned him that if he didn't get to Starfleet Headquarters immediately, 'his' ship and captaincy were in danger.

(It was only six weeks before the much anticipated first human vessel using the energies that Archer's father had designed would be fully operational and equipped for its mission – not thanks to the Vulcans who seemed to urge caution at every step. So much caution that Archer believed at did his late father – that these 'friends' were more of a hindrance than help. It was as if they never wanted humans to venture among the stars – at least not in any significant way.)

Archer immediately disembarked from the Enterprise, using a shuttle craft – and headed straight for the Starfleet Spaceport next to the Headquarters facility located at the Presido in San Francisco. That land had been used by the military for centuries, so that it was unlikely that his rapid descent would be intercepted by 'civilian formalities'. This was good, because he didn't want to have to explain his anger, if what he heard was true . . .

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Prologue, The Third –

Malcolm Reed landed on the sand with a practiced crunch; one never quite knew by looking if the act of walking (or more to the point dismounting) would make that peculiar squeaking sound that so irritated his friend, which he had known for almost his entire life. Breathing the tang of the air coming off the ocean, the lithe man remembered the many times that they had wandered up and down the coast with no destination in mind, other than curiosity and a need to feel the raw air against their skins.

The great head suddenly appeared next to him, and the Brit reached over and scratched the scales next to the ear flaps, that had once (a very long time ago – thankfully) gotten infected with scorge, making the dragon whip his head around in an attempt to stop the itching. The beast had done it so rapidly, and with so much violence, that one of the flaps had gotten tattered – Malcolm likened it to the crack at the end of a whip-stroke. Thus was his friend so marked; 'Your scars are visible – were that mine were so obvious . . .', mused Reed.

(Unlike most of the dragon lords, Malcolm Reed did not come from a linage so honored. Rather as a very young child, he and his mother – his father being a naval officer, and thus 'at sea' – were beset by feral dragons, so much so that it came to the attention of the guild, and holder of the ancient rights. The boy was examined, and found to be a natural dragon lord of immense power. It was insisted upon that he learn the craft, which did not please his family whose inclination and history belonged to the naval service. Thus he could never be what they demanded . . .)

Today however, was both a hopeful and sad day – as Malcolm Reed was to center himself with the thought – his long-time friend would be set 'free' to consort with others of its kind, to breed whilst he would accompany the star-ship, as one of the chosen. He removed the slender collar from 'dear one's' neck, and watched as the muscles rippled, wings extended, lifting the great creature skyward. Oh, that they could have traveled together to the stars . . .

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A.N. I have not forgotten the other story . . .


End file.
